Sunday Dinner
by dracosoftie
Summary: Harry and Charlie have an unconventional relationship, and Harry enjoys tormenting his lover – with Legilimency at a family dinner. Warnings for angst, slash, dark!manipulative!Harry, unhappy ending. Harry/Charlie


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This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This originally appeared at the LiveJournal community Kink Club (http:// community . livejournal . com/ kinkclub) Be sure to take out the spaces. I have several fics posted at the Kink Club that won't be posted anywhere else, so go join for more porny goodness! *grins* It's also up at my LiveJournal (http:// dracosoftie . livejournal . com) along with several fics that won't be posted anywhere else, so go check 'em out!

Thanks to FaeryQueen07 for the inspiration and the beta. I'm on a bit of a dark!Harry kick at the moment. So steer clear if you were expecting fluff …

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Charlie nearly choked on the bite of roast he'd just taken, his mind suddenly flooded with images of himself splayed over the self-same table his plate was currently on, naked and sweaty, Harry's fist wrapped tightly around his long red hair, Harry's cock buried to the hilt in his arse.

He concealed a groan as his scalp throbbed at the memory of Harry's harsh tugs, his brown eyes locked on Harry's, refusing to bend to the other man's mind games. Harry merely smirked, his pupils dilating as he pushed more memories into Charlie's mind.

Charlie's grip on his fork grew involuntarily tighter as Harry caressed his mind, teasing out details he'd long forgotten, like the way Harry's teeth had felt as they sank into his shoulder, not enough to break the skin but enough to leave bruises that had lingered for the better part of two weeks. His back arched slightly at the remembered burn of Harry's cock sliding in and out of him, the sting of sweat against his skin, scored by Harry's nails.

They'd been working on remodeling Harry's kitchen, the same one they were eating dinner in tonight, that day. It had been a warm spring afternoon, and Harry focused on the feel of the slight breeze that had swept through the open windows, cooling their sweaty bodies and dissipating the smell of sex, which had been heavy in the air.

Charlie relaxed slightly, hopeful that Harry had tired of his game as the presence in his mind faded. He shifted in his seat, reaching for the sweat-beaded glass in front of him. His eyes closed as the cool water slid past his parched lips, his pulse still beating frantically in the hollow of his throat.

He barely controlled the shiver of arousal that shot through him when he opened his eyes, unsurprised to find Harry still regarding him thoughtfully. He made no attempt to shield his mind as the other man slipped back inside, this time calling up memories of a different encounter.

Charlie fought the urge to give in, to break eye contact with Harry and admit defeat. Deep down, though, he knew that would displease Harry. The dark-haired man knew exactly what he was doing, and judging from the wicked grin on his face, he was enjoying himself immensely. He'd respect Charlie's wishes if the redhead chose to end the game, but Charlie knew that wouldn't come without a price. Harry didn't like to be denied, and Charlie had long ago learned that Harry's tastes ran dark, and refusing him one thing often led to later agreeing to something even worse.

Charlie bit his lip as Harry's presence in his mind became a bit more forceful, pulling on strings of memories until he found one of the two of them in the shower, Charlie writhing against the cool tile wall as Harry swallowed him to the root, strong fingers buried in his arse. Harry's manipulation of the memory was so real that Charlie absently wiped at his face, feeling the water cascading over his skin as Harry's hot mouth enveloped him.

He felt himself go completely hard, grateful for the table that hid that fact from the other dinner guests. He could feel his cheeks flush, and he pushed his jumper sleeves up, hoping to cool himself off. He squirmed a bit as his erection pressed painfully against the zipper of his denims, barely containing a hiss of pleasure as Harry snatched the thought of his discomfort from his mind and used it to call up yet another memory, this time of a hurried hand job just outside the gates of Hogwarts a few weeks ago, Harry's hands fumbling with his zipper, Charlie barely managing to pull them off the main path and into the bushes before succumbing to the insistent grip that sheathed his cock.

Charlie bit his lip, silently pleading with Harry to stop. The dark-haired man responded by changing tactics, manipulating Charlie's mind in the present instead of delving into their past. Charlie's senses went into overdrive as he felt Harry's foot nudge his knees apart, the dragonhide boot sliding up his thigh until it pressed against the bulge in his denims, making him nearly cry out with want. Showing no mercy at all, Harry merely smirked, pushing thoughts of what he'd like to do to Charlie into the redhead's mind.

Charlie's breathing faltered as Harry continued to conjure up teasing images, showing him exactly what he would be doing to him at that moment if they weren't currently having Sunday dinner with Charlie's family. Charlie gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain still as Harry slid around his mind, pulling his most secret fantasies to the forefront. His heart rate sped up even more as Harry's lips curved upward into a genuine smile, white teeth flashing against cherry red lips, as the dark-haired man uncovered Charlie's most secret desire.

Charlie blinked hard, purposefully breaking eye contact with the green-eyed man who sat across from him. He kept his gaze lowered, focusing on regaining control of his body and his breathing. He had no idea how long he and Harry had been staring at each other, but it had seemed an eternity. A quick glance down the table proved that it had been barely any time at all, though, since no one was staring at them in horror.

"More potatoes, Mum?" Ginny asked, snapping Charlie firmly back into the present.

"Yes, dear. They're lovely," Molly answered, her plate passing under Charlie's nose as she held it out for seconds.

Charlie swallowed, taking a shaky breath to help clear his head. Harry's foot slowly slid back down his leg, almost daring him to look up again, but Charlie kept his eyes fixed resolutely on the table, mapping out the familiar wood grain, just as he had on the numerous occasions Harry had fucked him up against it, too anxious to be inside him for them to make it up to the bedroom.

Not that the bedroom was a more comfortable place for them to fuck. Charlie forced his mind to recall another part of the memory Harry had foisted upon him moments ago. Legilimency couldn't transmit smells, but Charlie's memory could. Especially since the smell was that of his little sister's favorite conditioner, which Harry had been using as a lubricant that day in the shower.

The remembered smell – and the hot wash of guilt and shame that came with it – took care of his lingering erection. He looked up, defiantly meeting Harry's amused gaze. He hated this. Hated how much he wanted Harry, how that want never seemed to fucking _end_, no matter how many times he found himself underneath the wiry, green-eyed man. Every time Charlie told himself it would be the _last_ time, and every time it was a lie.

The worst part was the irony of it all. Harry was everything Charlie could possibly want in a partner. As head of the Auror Department, he had a wonderful job that he loved. He enjoyed working with his hands, and he'd renovated Grimmauld Place himself, using magical contractors only for the few jobs he couldn't do himself. He was great with kids and he loved being outdoors, both of which meshed nicely with Charlie's new job as Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts.

And now Harry knew just exactly _why_ Charlie stayed. He knew that he wouldn't leave him, despite the fact that this cozy kitchen and beautiful life that Charlie so coveted belonged to someone else. Harry knew, and Charlie had no doubt he would use it against him mercilessly.

"You're probably all wondering why we've asked you here today," Ginny said suddenly, drawing encouraging smiles from nine-tenths of the assembled family gathered around the table.

He felt his stomach plummet as Ginny stood, Harry's hand gripped in hers. Traitorous emerald eyes sought him out, something akin to dark satisfaction swirling in their depths, tantalizing red lips curved into a smile that only Charlie knew had nothing to do with excitement about Ginny's pregnancy and everything to do with how much Charlie hated her for it.

"We saw the Mediwitch today," Ginny continued, brushing their joined hands over her growing belly lovingly. Charlie swallowed back a bit of bile, wishing he could be as happy for his glowing sister and her seemingly perfect husband as everyone else. "She said it's a boy!"


End file.
